Life
by Pyralis Anacreon
Summary: If Stephanie Meyer had dreamed of magic. If Rowling had written about vampires. Two Fusions sort of


Life

* * *

If Stephanie Meyer had dreamed of magic. If Rowling had written about vampires.

* * *

Bella Swan stared at the rainy landscape, sighing deeply. Despite almost begging her mother to let her live with her father, Charlie, it wasn't something she really wanted to do. But Renee was so happy with Phil, a nice warlock with a job that traveled enough to keep her roaming ways satisfied. And Bella had only stayed with her mother for as long as she had because the woman was incapable of being alone.

Most witches and wizards moved out before their sixteenth birthday, after all, for the traditional year of freedom before their seventeenth birthday. On that day, their magic expanded greatly and after which they were expected to find a calling suited to their magic.

In fact, the only reason Bella wasn't enjoying her sixteenth year right now was because she'd spent most of the money saved up for it on her mother's hobbies. She didn't mind, though. Living with Renee was like freedom in itself, and her mother was her best friend. Now she wanted to taste the other side of life. With more responsibility than 'Are we sleeping on the flying carpet or under a roof tonight?'.

Charlie--whose name was actually Charles, a far more proper name for such a powerful warlock--was a relaxed, middle-aged man. He wouldn't suffocate her, but she at least was sure he would notice if she didn't come back home for three days. Sadly, Bella could not say the same for her mother.

So Bella had many reasons for coming here, some not all that good. Another big one was the school, sort of like a college for witches and wizards. It only accepted those who were about to reach their majority, or those already above it, and was prestigious enough that she could get a good, solid job somewhere. Maybe a pilot; she'd always liked flying.

Still, the dreary weather in Forks made her miss the desert.

* * *

Her first day at Forks School for Major Witches and Wizards, Bella found it lacking.

Her education had been informal, even more so than the traditional home-schooling magic teaching ways. She had learned whatever caught her mother's fancy that day. But it was broad, and Bella had taken the time to study on her own, anytime Renee wasn't around. Which meant she'd read through entire libraries.

Forks had little to teach her, except maybe social skills, as she found in lunch. Other teens had tried to talk to each other, and she'd been completely lost. How was she supposed to react to a situation like this one, or that on? She thought too much.

Bella found she much preferred interacting with an older age group.

Which might explain why the Cullens were so interesting. And Edward in particular.

They sat at one end on the cafeteria, not talking, utterly alone. Each one was more beautiful than the last, pale skin and sleepless eyes. Vampires.

"Who're they?" She asked a chattering young Werewolf beside her.

The girl glanced to where she was looking, and her face pulled together in disgust. "The Cullens. Think they're so much better than the rest of us. Damn leeches."

Right, Bella had forgotten about the Werewolf-Vampire animosity. She'd never had much contact with either group, to be honest. They usually kept to themselves.

"That little one, that just got up, her magic is the sight. Heard her telling one of them something." The Werewolf went on, eager to tell Bella all she knew. "And that one she's next to is an elemental--things go crazy when he gets angry. The big one is phys-magic, I once saw him lifting up a car. And the girl next to him is an enchantress." Her voice lowered to a whisper, like this was even more dangerous. "The last one, his name's Edward. They say he has sound magic, and he's really good at it, but I think--" She glanced around, Bella almost snorted at her childish attmept to be sneaky in a screaming lunchroom. "--I think it's really mind-magic."

Bella's eyes widened in shock. A mind-mage? Those were _rare_, like one in a billion. She'd never met a mind-mage before, only heard the stories. Of the horrors they could cause, of the trail of broken minds they left in their wake. And a vampire with that talent? He could drink your blood and _make_ you like it.

"Oh." She breathed.

"Yeah, but don't think it around him. I don't want to find a flock of blood-sucking bats at my door." The Werewolf said. "So, what's your magic?"

"Wards." Bella muttered, still staring at the vampires.

Edward Cullen looked up just then, locking his golden eyes with her own. Bella had to struggle to keep her magic from Vanishing her right then and there.

_I'm staying out of _his_ way_, she decided.

* * *

Avoiding the vampire was not that easy, she found. He was in almost every one of her classes, except Magic-Practice. That, coincidentally, became her favorite class, even though her magic was often clumsy and hard to control.

And it also seemed Edward had taken an interest in her, for whatever reason. He sat next to her in every class they shared, and she half-expected him to one day just drag her to his lunch table. Despite this, he never said a word. He might be an odd mixture of shy and bold, or maybe just plain crazy. Bella was sure, and she didn't know which to hope for.

Several times, he would open his mouth, like he was going to say something, and then not say it. It got to the point where it was so annoying she finally just blurted, "What?! Whatever you're trying to say, say it or leave!"

He looked taken aback, and so was Bella. She was never that forceful. But this vampire brought out the last of her patience and beat it dead.

"I was wondering why I can't... hear you." He admitted.

"What?" She asked. He could obviously hear her just fine, since he just answered her. Crazy-vamp was looking better and better.

"I can't... hear you. Your mind. It's blank."

She blinked. "Are you calling me stupid?" She asked, slowly. Vampire or not, min-mage or not, she was going to hurt him.

"No! I honestly can't get anything! Like a Werewolf, only, you're not." He said, hurriedly.

"Well, _I _don't know why. Maybe you're losing your magic." She told him, taking out weeks of suppressed annoyance on him.

He fell silent, brooding, for the rest of class. And then at the end, he spoke again. "You won't tell anyone, will you? About my magic? It's just... people get... scared. Of mind-mages, and of vampires. Let alone the two together." He looked truly worried about this.

Bella considered. She hadn't exactly been nice to him; he probably thought she was some sort of stuck-up little witch. Her gaze softened. "I won't, promise. I already knew, anyway."

He finally looked up. Strange, Bella had never noticed how beautiful his eyes were. Like a melted caramel, not the hard golden she'd seen across the cafeteria. "Thanks."

This time, watching him go, Bella thought maybe vampires weren't so bad. And since when did she trust a story's version of a magical alignment to tell her how to treat someone?

* * *

Harry could hardly keep from leaping for joy in his excitement, and the only reason he didn't indulge was the many eyes on him. All expecting something different, but still amazing. And all they got was him.

Harry, for all that this would usually have him cowering into his own shadow, couldn't care less if he tried. Because he was on top of the world right now. Sure, he'd known about being the sole survivor of a powerful vampire coven for the past week, but he'd not really believed until now. When he walked into the only school for vampires in all of Europe, Hogsblood. The name sucked, but it was the only place where he could learn to control the powers that were his birthright.

The powers his parents had seen fit to seal away with an irremovable wristband.

He frowned as that thought crossed his mind. The Potters came from a long line of pure-blooded vampires, very prestigious, and his father was said to be very powerful. His mother was a fresh-blood, not worth much until one realized just how good she was at enchanting people--vampires and muggles alike. But even if the union of two such powerful vampires could create a child on Dracula's power level, why would they seal it away?

Harry put the thought from his mind. He was away from his awful relatives--who had been horrified when the wristband was removed and his true heritage shone through--and here without Dudley to make things miserable.

Life was looking up for Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry found out why his powers were sealed away when he confronted his teacher in front of the Mirror of Desire.

Quirrel seemed to be a nervous little man, terrified of his own shadow. Harry had been shocked to find it was him, and not the tradition-loving, bat-impersonating Snape, who had been after the Blood Stone, which could create blood giving the drinker powerful abilities, and even restore life.

But that surprise didn't last for long. He shouted, drawing the teacher's attention, taking the short stairs in a single leap. Quirrel whirled, claws out and ready to slash at him, a spell ready to leap off his tongue. Harry dodged both, barely, and knew he had no hope of defeating a teacher, no matter how pitiful he seemed.

The man leaped at him, and Harry couldn't get away in time. They went down thrashing, Harry trying to cause Quirrel as much pain as possible. He would feel the older vampire's blows later, if he lived that long. But for now, venom was flooding his mouth and clouding his mind, and he went for the throat.

Later, Harry would ask himself what he was thinking. It wasn't like vampires needed to breath, after all, and a strangled throat was more of an annoyance than anything. But the teacher's skin melted away under his touch, and by the scream of agony, it hurt quite a lot.

Harry followed Quirrel as he tried to pull back, mind lost in the bloodlust. On palm found the man's face, spread out and made him writhe with the pain. The other stayed on his throat. He didn't quite know when he burned through the last of Quirrel's neck, except that by then he didn't have a throat--or a face--to scream with. And the vampire finally died.

Harry, drained, didn't even have time to be horrified at his first kill before passing out.

* * *

He woke to his headmaster's benign face, a trusting grandfatherly visage. It had probably fooled many of the man's victims.

"Harry," The old man said. "Welcome back to the world of the unliving."

Harry wondered how he'd gotten his face to show age so well. "Thank you, Headmaster. I... uh.... What happened?"

Dumbledore's face turned grave. "I had hoped not to burden you with this knowledge just yet, but.... It seems Tom has given me no choice." He sighed. Harry wished he would just spit it out already. "Your parents sealed away your powers at my request, for I feared what you could do in anger. Both of them were very powerful, and when they died, leaving you with your blood relatives was the only option. You know how important blood is to our talents. But they were muggles, and fear of our kind is ingrained deeply into their instincts. I knew I had made the right choice, then." He sighed again.

"Do you know how your parents died, Harry?" He asked.

Harry shook his head. "I know they were murdered... but I don't know why. Or by who." It was something that had been irritating him for a while.

"His name was Voldemort, and he was a very dark vampire." Dumbledore began.

* * *

Guess what?

This is my idea of 'light and fun' and maybe even of 'humor'. Yeah.

Always did say I'd write something not-depressing.

This wasn't it. For me, anyway.


End file.
